


Foxglove

by Falling_Rhayne



Series: Good Omens [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Character Death, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Flower Language, Foxglove, Hurt, Hurt but no comfort, Lots of Angst, M/M, foxgloves, no beta we die like men, they love each other but the love hurts, you guys read the tags you know what you're getting into
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 23:43:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falling_Rhayne/pseuds/Falling_Rhayne
Summary: Some things in this world are made to be admired from afar. Things that are made beautiful, ethereal - pure, even - that are just not meant to be touched. Like flowers whose blooms fill a dreary field with color, but whose very being would bring a man to the brink of death.Aziraphale was one of these things.





	Foxglove

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely [sofiaruelle](https://twitter.com/sofiaruelle) and inspired by this [artwork](https://twitter.com/deadlilmoon/status/1151529161628012545) by [deadlilmoon](https://twitter.com/deadlilmoon).

* * *

* * *

  
Some things in this world are made to be admired from afar. Things that are made beautiful, ethereal - pure, even - that are just not meant to be touched. Like flowers whose blooms fill a dreary field with color, but whose very being would bring a man to the brink of death.

Aziraphale was one of these things.

And Crowley knew this.

Crowley knew this the moment he laid eyes on the angel, standing at the top of the walls of Eden, his pure white wings spread out and catching the light of the newly made sun. Crowley knew this the moment he laid eyes on Aziraphale's sword, wreath in glorious flame, majestic and dangerous in the same breath.

Crowley knew this, and yet he ingored it. Blatantly ignored it. Shoved it so far behind his mind that he didn't even think about it the moment he approached the angel, crawling up on to the Eastern wall where Aziraphale stood.

And when the first drops of rain fell from the sky, Crowley forgot it. Forgot that Aziraphale was his enemy, and that some day they will be standing on opposite sides in a war that only one of them will come out of unscathed. For that moment Crowley forgot, and relished in the sound of the first thunderstorm, and the feel of Aziraphale's heat as they stood together in the rain.

* * *

Time meant nothing to a being that wasn't affected by it. Everything around them changed, moved forward. Crowley tried to keep up, changed himself as others change around him, but some things remained the same.

Aziraphale remained the same.

Despite everything changing around them, time moving without waiting for them to keep up, his relationship with Aziraphale stayed the same. They didn't actively seek each other out, but inevitably ended up in each other's presence. They wove around each other like an intricate dance. One drawn towards the other, like a moth to a flame.

Aziraphale was the flame.

And Crowley forgot he was the moth.

Sitting together in the Bentley, the thermos of holy water safely tucked in his lap, and Aziraphale looking at him with emotions whirring through his eyes. Crowley forgot. Did everything he could to keep forgetting. Crowley went too fast for the angel, and he was willing to slow down. For Aziraphale, he was willing to do anything.

* * *

Time may not mean anything to him, but it didn't mean it wouldn't catch up to him. Standing in the middle of a graveyard, holding the heaviest baby basket he's ever held, Crowley remembered. Remembered there was a Great Plan, and that he was part of it. Remembered that the Apocalypse was a going to happen. He was going to help it happen.

And Aziraphale would be made to stop him.

He lost track of how long he sat in the Bentley, baby basket in the back seat. This baby was the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness. This baby was going to bring about the end of the world.

This baby was also crying.

Crowley wanted to cry with him.

Getting rid of the baby would be so easy. He could give the basket a few spins, then throw it out into the nearest forest. He was just a baby, there was nothing he could do. But Crowley knew everyone Down There would know what he did. The moment he throws the baby away, they'd come for him. And they'd punish him in ways he couldn't even imagine. He couldn't do this to himself. He has to do what we has to do, no matter how much he doesn't want to.

* * *

He didn't think he could feel alone, but there were many things Crowley didn't think he could feel. He didn't think he'd feel fear, not until he clutched the Adversary's baby basket in his hands. He didn't think he'd feel hopeless, not until he watched the Adeversary bringing wheeled into the American Culture Attaché's room.

He didn't think he could feel love, until that day with Aziraphale in the Bentley.

Sitting in his office with nothing but his house plants, Crowley felt incredibly alone. He could call Aziraphale. He should call Aziraphale. But he can't. The angel was probably informed of the Adversary. He should already know about the plan being carried out.

Aziraphale didn't need him calling. Not now.

Crowley knew alcohol did nothing for him, but he tried anyway. Drowned himself in the bottles of vodka he kept hidden in a drawer, for the days when he started to remember. He wanted to forget. He needed to forget. To fool himself into thinking the Apocalypse could be stopped, that the Adversary wouldn't destroy the world.

That he and Aziraphale could continue to live the life they were living.

Even with the alcohol in his system, Crowley knew better. He knew that the Great Plan was inevitable. From the very beginning, Aziraphale was a being he was meant to admire from afar, and that Crowley was never meant to get close. But Crowley was selfish, he always was selfish, and now he was suffering from it.

* * *

Despite knowing it was coming, Crowley was not prepared for the Apocalypse. For the horde of demons erupting from the crack in the Earth. For the legion of angels descending from the light in the sky. For the Antichrist, all of eleven years old, standing in the middle of it all.

For Aziraphale - his beautiful, beautiful angel - standing in all his glory, sword in hand, facing Crowley with the most heartbroken look on his face.

_"Crowley."_

Aziraphale's voice shook, and it took everything in Crowley not to move. To not fall into the arms of the angel standing in front of him.

_"Angel."_

Crowley drowned out the sound of battle echoing around them, focusing on the small breath escaping out of the angel's - his angel's - mouth.

Everything around them faded away, and it was just them. An angel and demon, standing together at the end of the world. For a moment, he forgot again. Forgot that one of them wasn't coming out of this alive.

He didn't think that would be Aziraphale.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. One second he was standing in front of Aziraphale, and the next he was being pushed away, the angel's wings blocking his vision as he let himself fall to the ground. He looked up and all he could see was Aziraphale in all his glory, standing between him and another angel.

Aziraphale - beautiful, funny, adorable, loving Aziraphale - raised his sword. At another angel. For Crowley.

_"Angel, no—"_

Crowley reached out, but it was too late. Aziraphale's flaming blade clashed with another, and a bright flash of light nearly blinded him. Blinking away the spots in his vision, Crowley opened his eyes to see a nightmare.

Azirphale, the flame in his sword dying out, pure white wings moulting black, as another angel lay fallen in front of him.

Crowley stumbled as he stood, catching the angel as he slumped backwards, sword falling out of his limp grip. Crowley cradled Aziraphale in his arms, dark - almost charred - feathers falling all around them. He held the angel's head in his hands, running his hands through the soft blonde locks, and whispering senseless words into his ears.

_"It's going to be okay, angel. We're going to be okay. Stay with me. Please."_

Crowley felt a dampness slide down his cheek, tears falling onto Aziraphale's face.

_"Don't cry, dear."_

Aziraphale brought a shaking hand up to cradle Crowley's face. The demon leaned into the touch, chasing the fading warmth of the angel's hand. Aziraphale smiled, but it was water. Pained. And it took all of Crowley's self-restraint not to scream.

_"I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry."_

_"Don't be, Crowley."_

_"I could have prevented this, Aziraphale. Could've stopped it. Throw that baby out the moment they handed his bloody basket over to me."_

_"You wouldn't. You're too nice. Deep down."_

_"And look at where that got me."_

Aziraphale laughed, but it turned into a cough. Crowley could feel the dampness seeping through Aziraphale's robe, soaking the space where his wings used to be. Crowley held him tighter, counting every breath coming out of his mouth, cherishing each rise and fall of his shoulders.

_"Stay with me, angel. Please."_

Crowley put his hand up against Aziraphale's, holding it tight as the angel's grip slackened. Crowley leaned against him, putting their foreheads together, as the angel's breathing slowed. The war waged on around them, the chaos of angels and demons and everything caught in between.

Crowley didn't care about of it.

The only thing he cared about was the angel in his arms. The angel who's light was going out, and yet Crowley still desperately chased after it. The angel who was meant to be admired from afar, but when did Crowley ever do what he was meant to do.

Aziraphale's last breath left him, and Crowley felt himself die with him.

* * *

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I've been trying to put out longer oneshots out there while I'm trying to get back into the writing groove, and I'm so happy to have finished this. If y'all wanna talk don't be scared to hit me up! I'd really love hearing from you.
> 
> [ **Twitter** ](https://twitter.com/fallingRhayne) **|[Tumblr](https://falling-rhayne.tumblr.com/)**


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